


To Feel Warm.

by orphan_account



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, American Civil War RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daphens, Dumbasses, First shipper rights and all, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I get to name the ship, Im the only shipper so far and I'm proud of it, Kinda, M/M, Rain, i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27351151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alec’s gaze fell on the long fingers grasping the handle, holding the umbrella in place. An illusory warmth entered his system at that sight, bringing another fit of cough up his throat.He swallowed. “Thanks?”Davis—Jefferson—offered some sort of smile that made hair stand up on the back of Alec’s neck. “You owe me one.”
Relationships: Alexander H. Stephens/Jefferson Davis, Jefferson Davis & Alexander H. Stephens, Jefferson Davis/Alexander H. Stephens
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	To Feel Warm.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm going to hell for this, but their relationship dynamics were too good to miss. Also, their names.   
> This is pure fiction and I truly regret to have written this.

The rain beat a soft but steady rhythm against the window pane. Alec tapped his fingers against the outside of his still warm cup, his tired eyes fogged over by traces of steam rising from the hot beverage. Occasionally, he would look up from his coffee—black, and as cliche as it might sound, not quite unlike his soul—and towards the front door of the coffee shop, left ajar by the last customer that came in.

The rain was growing thicker. Alec raised his head and saw the short hand of the clock lying dangerously close to the bold “IX” etched into its face. Luckily, just as the long hand dragged itself across another 1/60 and before sinister thoughts could crawl into his mind, a “bam” from the opposite direction cut Alec’s impatient sigh halfway up his throat. A long, black coat, completed with an old-fashioned, cane-like umbrella at his side—those were the only indications Alec needed.

“Davis,” he didn’t care to conceal the venom, “here you finally are.”

Davis arched an eyebrow. “I thought we arranged to meet at nine.”

“Eight,” Alec sneered, almost squashing the container of his drink between his hands, “we agreed on eight. And you never replied to my texts. Do you not check your phone, ever?”

“Its battery died,” Davis mumbled, matter-of-factly, in lieu of a response, before joining Alec at the table. “Let’s get to work, pipsqueak.”

“Any sane person would know to charge their phone before they—“Alec started, words stumbling out of his mouth before his brain fully processed what his group project partner just said. “I thought I told you not to call me that!”

“I don’t take orders from you,” said Davis, shrugging, “can we not waste this—“ he gestured outside, where the ever-blowing wind anchored the rain in every direction, “—perfect morning on petty arguing? We still have discussion to do.”

Biting down the urge to shoot back a snarky remark, Alec nodded. It was an utter mistake that Prof. Calhoun decided to pair them up. He, Alexander Hamilton Stephens, had a better time debating Jefferson Davis on the school newspaper than working with him on some stupid literary analysis of _Gone with the Wind_. And as much as Alec wanted to brush it off as some annoying romance novel, he had got to admit that the book was...a realistic portrayal of that time, at least. It was interesting, seeing history from the loser’s perspective.

But having to do a project on it with Jefferson Davis, the pretentious, ambitious and not to mention _stupid_ asshole? That ruined every last bit of good will he had of the book.

 _Rant to Robert about it later,_ he silently added to his mental checklist.

* * *

“The Civil War is not all about slavery!” Davis whisper-shouted into Alec’s face, almost toppling his own plastic cup of chocolate over in the process, “do you not see in the book, pipsqueak? The north is just using emancipation to its own advantage!”

“One, stop calling me that, or I’m reporting you as a school bully—“Alec raised a finger and waved it in front of Davis, reminding him that Abraham, who was on the school council, was also one of his best friends, “and two, those African Americans deserved freedom, which the North granted them; using it to their advantage or not, it marked the destruction of the institution which is the whole point of this war!”

His parents would not be happy hearing him say that—Alec flinched; he loved his parents, he really did, but he could never forgo the fact that they tried to educate their young kid into a racist. And succeed they did once, until someone woke Alec up with a knife to the stomach. A literal knife that got him scarred forever, but he deserved every stitch.

Alec was still overwhelmed with guilt for ever having those thoughts instilled into his mind.

Dissolving bonds with your family could be rough, but being estranged from his family proved to be rougher. After spewing out his newly-gained beliefs to his parents in an argument(and somehow managed to come out in the process, god help him), Alec got a taste of that life himself. He actually planned to take on some jobs to sustain himself through the school year, before one of his more sympathetic cousins decided to take him in. So yeah. Life was good for Alexander, so far.

Except for this one negative sitting in front of him, talking like it was the end of the world.

At least he was be alone, as he had always been on a Saturday’s morning with his cousin having left for work, cuddling in a mess of blankets and sneezing his brain out. The coffee shop where Davis recommended for them to meet had, blissfully, installed heating, and it was always good to be warm.

Something tickled his nose at the thought of sneezing. He tried his best to temp it down.

* * *

It was five hours later that the two of them walked out of the shop, mouth dry from argument, lunch skipped and emotionally bedraggled. A livid sky stretched out above, water squeezed down in the manner of a downpour.

Alec muffled a curse with his fur collar, which he was currently hiding his nose in. He hadn’t thought to bring any protection against rain when he went out, since it had seemed fine at six a.m.(in Alec’s defense, it had been dark then and he could not very practically see much). Needless to say, Alec would be soaked when he got back—that was, if he _could_ somehow make it back. Knowing the extent to his immune system’s ability, he’d probably be coughing himself to death in the middle of the street.

The saddest thing about that was that he wasn’t even using rhetorical devices.

“Well?” Asked Davis, beside him on the porch, where Alec was sure to have stalled for the good part of a minute. _Marvelous_ , thought Alec to himself, Davis would probably record in slo-mo his death with his hysteric laughters in the background. Stifling a groan, Alec turned to look at the other boy, albeit reluctantly.

“What? I like the rain,” he muttered, “why are you still here? You too having a poetic encounter with this gorgeous sky water?”

Alec learnt from experience that his brain-mouth filter tended to turn off when he was cold, especially when his teeth were starting to clatter against each other and his limbs trembled inevitably. Knowing doing something was stupid never stopped him before, though. Nor would it stop his mouth.

“Christ, have you not an umbrella?” Davis ignored his remark, his gaze fixed on Alec’s empty hands with a pretended horrified look plastered to his face.

Alec stared back, deadpan. The mocking look on Davis’s face slowly morphed into a real one as realization struck. “Oh my god. You really don’t have an umbrella. And yet you were lecturing me about remembering to charge my phone, just hours ago—“

“It wasn’t raining, how would I’ve known?” Alec half-shouted in frustration. Half, because his teeth kept colliding together and the words, when they did come out, lost most of their fire. “In fact, why do you care anyways? Except for wanting to have first-hand footage of my tragic death in the middle of a rain.”

Davis looked...perplexed. Outside, the rain had faded into a blissful background noise, just as their conversation quieted down. “I might hate you as much as your snake of a friend Toombs, but I’m not heartless.” He managed slowly, and now it was Alec’s turn to be perplexed—the urge to defend Robert surged back as he was too curiously focused on what Davis might do next.

A click, then a gentle nudge on his back that led him out from under the protection of the shed. Alec raised his gaze and there it was, the ugliest, most outdated umbrella he’d ever have the misfortune to see, held open above his head.

Alec’s gaze fell on the long fingers grasping the handle, holding the umbrella in place. An illusory warmth entered his system at that sight, bringing another fit of cough up his throat.

He swallowed. “Thanks?”

Davis—Jefferson—offered some sort of smile that made hair stand up on the back of Alec’s neck. “You owe me one, pipsqueak.”

* * *

There wasn’t a lot else to remember about that day, if you let Alec tell it. A coughing fit in the middle of the road—as it ought to have happened—and Jefferson’s hysterical laughter as he pressed record; then, a trench coat dropped onto his shoulders, feather light; the glistening of the other’s dark curls as the umbrella leant an inch more towards a crouching Alec on the ground; and maybe, just maybe—because Alec could’ve still been delirious from his cough and the rain, an arm around his shoulder all the way back to his cousin’s house.

The whole trip back home, Alec felt warm.

The warmth lasted longer than before he’d ever felt.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this & feel free to attack me @the-one-and-only-daphens-shipper on tumblr  
> I’m already going to hell its not like i care  
> Or believe hell exists anyways


End file.
